


In the Crossfire

by mirkandmidnight



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Coming Out, Homophobia, M/M, Post Year Three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkandmidnight/pseuds/mirkandmidnight
Summary: Alternatively Titled: Tyler Frye, Vigilante Homophobe-Puncher





	In the Crossfire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ace Observation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348727) by [mirkandmidnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkandmidnight/pseuds/mirkandmidnight). 



> This work is a coda to both Year Three and a previous work of mine, [Ace Observation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11348727). It's recommended you read both of those before this fic. 
> 
> Like, seriously.

Tyler is sitting at a table in the back of the bar with Swoops when the Falconers win the Stanley Cup. Every TV in the place is turned to the after-game coverage, but he's more focused on explaining the use of musical leitmotif (whatever, he's a little bit of a nerd, so sue him) than on what the announcers are saying. So five minutes after the game ends, when Carly starts running his mouth, he's not sure at first what's going on. 

He looks back over his shoulder at the bar, where Parser and Scraps are peering at someone's phone, and Carly is saying something about Jack Zimmermann. 

"So he's gay or whatever? Jesus Christ." Tyler tenses up at the same moment that Parser does. "You know, why can't Zimmermann do something fuckin' regular." There's someone trying to get Carly to shut the fuck up, but Tyler doesn't care. He doesn't even care that Carly's got a good thirty pounds on him. 

Something of what he's feeling must show on his face, because Swoops looks alarmed. "Tyler, don't--" he starts, but Tyler's already out of his seat and on his way up to the bar. He doesn't even wait for Carly to speak before Tyler's fist is connecting with his stupid fucking face.

The bar explodes into chaos. People are yelling at both of them, and Tyler can't quite get up enough energy to care about the consequences of punching a teammate. So he does it again. 

This time, Carly's ready for it. Not only does he dodge the hit, he jabs Tyler in the face and shoves him, sending him reeling backwards. Tyler's prepared for a painful impact with the floor. Instead, he goes crashing into Swoops, who'd apparently followed him. Swoops catches him under the arms and hauls him upright, then glares at Carly.

"Hey," he snaps, putting himself in front of Tyler. Which is, you know, kind of nice, but the implication that Tyler needs Swoops to defend his honor also stings a little. "Settle the fuck down."

Carly raises his hands in a show of surrender. "I didn't start it," he says. He turns to Parser, who's been frozen at the bar for the whole thing. "Right, Cap?"

Something about seeing Parser, who's usually got three or four clever quips for any given situation, struck silent, fuels the anger Tyler's been pushing down. "You were fucking asking for it," he says, trying to get around Swoops's shoulder. But Swoops takes a step sideways to block him.

Swoops sighs. "I'll deal with you later, Carly," he says, and taps Parser on the shoulder. He looks up, eyes wide and vulnerable and totally raw. Tyler would pay good money to never see that look on his face again. "Come on, man. We gotta deal with the rookie." Swoops shepherds them both towards the door. "Just go with it," he mutters under his breath.

Fine. He'll go with it. Tyler seriously doubts that he's about to get reamed out for punching a homophobe by his captain and alternate captain, who are dating each other. He touches his lip, wincing at the pain, and frowns when his fingers come away red. Okay. Fuck Carly. Tyler snags a couple napkins from one of the tables and lets himself be pushed out the door.

Swoops herds them outside and around to the side of the bar facing the alley. There's no windows, and the alley itself is deserted and dimly lit. 

Parser's hands are trembling.

Swoops glances around to see if anyone's nearby. Then his gaze lights on Tyler. "Make sure no one comes down here, yeah?"

Tyler nods. If he's guarding the entrance to the alley, he's not getting yelled at. He heads for the entrance, but turns back in time to see Swoops holding out his arms, and Parser practically collapsing into them. He's shaking, and making terrible choking sounds that might be repressed sobs, but Swoops just rubs circles on the back of his neck, and murmurs something soothing.

Tyler forces himself to look away. It's far too personal a scene for him to be intruding on. Instead, he focuses on the street outside the alley, and looking as forbidding as possible. No one else is going to be interrupting whatever's going on back there. 

After a couple minutes, he hears Swoops's voice reverberating down the alley. "Tyler!" he calls, sounding somewhere between exasperated and exhausted. 

He turns from the alley and walks quickly back towards them. Swoops doesn't sound very happy. Maybe he's actually going to get yelled at. That would be a novelty. Tyler hunches his shoulders and wishes Goldie were out here.

Swoops takes a look at him and sighs. "C'mere," he says, seizing Tyler by the chin and turning his face this way and that. He brushes Tyler's split lip with his thumb, and Tyler winces. That stings! "Yeah, you're lucky I didn't let him take another crack at you," Swoops mutters. "That guy does not play around."

Tyler huffs. "Yeah, thanks, Dad."

"Excuse you, I would be a fantastic father," he replies, then flicks Tyler's forehead. Parser snickers. "But really. Tyler. That was a stupid fucking thing to do."

He glares down at his shoes, scuffing one toe on the asphalt. "I know."

Swoops continues. "First of all, that was a terrible punch."

Tyler's head jerks up. "What?" For a second, he thinks Swoops is playing with him, but his expression is completely serious. He turns to Parser, who raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Don't look at me," Parser says. "He's right. That was the worst. You're lucky you didn't break your hand." He makes a fist, and right away, Tyler can see differences between it and what he'd done. "This is what you want to do. See, my thumb is outside, and my hand isn't tensed." He lowers his hand. "Come on. Let's see."

Tyler glances at Swoops. This is...kind of weird. It's unsettling in its sheer mundaneness. Parser isn't acting like Carly's affected him at all, but his eyes are rimmed in red, and there's a kind of forced cheer to this whole thing. But the look in Swoops's eyes says he should play along with it.

"Come on," Parser repeats. 

What the hell. Tyler cracks his neck and imitates the fist as best he can.

Parser holds out a hand, palm facing outward. He brings one foot back, bracing himself for an impact, then waves his other hand at Tyler. "Come on. Hit me."

"What?"

"You heard me." Parser raises his eyebrows and taps his open palm. "Let's see you throw a punch."

"I'm not going to punch you!"

"Will you just punch the man?" Swoops sighs. "Otherwise we'll be here all night."

Okay. Fine. Tyler squares up and takes a swing, his fist connecting solidly with Parser's open palm.

"Not bad," he says, "but you're going to be able to get more force behind it if you twist your entire torso, and not just use your elbow." He raises his palm. "Again."

Tyler sighs. If he's doing this, whatever it is, he might as well go all in. He throws another punch, this time attempting to do the torso twisting thing, and is surprised to feel his fist connect with considerably more power behind it. Parser actually stumbles a little, then regains his balance. 

"Better." Swoops folds his arms over his chest. "That said, you aren't allowed to go after Carly again."

"What?" Tyler stares at him, thunderstruck. "He's an asshole! Somebody's gotta deal with this guy. He can't just go around saying shit like that--"

Swoops holds up a hand, halting the torrent of words. "He's also liable to beat the hell out of you if you try anything." He sighs, and something in his face shifts, and suddenly he's not the impassive authority figure he's been playing at the past few minutes. "Look. Tyler. I get where you're coming from here. I've wanted to punch the guy myself a few times. But you can't, for a couple of reasons." He pauses, but Tyler stays silent, a mutinous look in his eye. "First of all, he's our teammate. So even though he's a complete bag of dicks, and I'd like to punch his teeth in, we can't. Second, he would literally wipe the damn floor with you."

"He wouldn't," Tyler mutters.

"I had to physically catch you because he punched you so hard you went flying," Swoops says. There's really nothing Tyler can say to that, so he stays quiet. "It's not that I--we, don't appreciate what you were trying to do. You just can't do it again."

"It wasn't about you," Tyler snaps, then freezes. Hell. "I mean, it kind of was, but also not really, like in a way? You know?" He's well aware he's rambling now in a vain attempt to fix this, but at the same time, he can't seem to stop himself. "So I guess it kind of was--"

"Tyler." Parser looks halfway between amused and alarmed.

"I have two moms!" It's out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he's left wishing he could catch the words and pull them back inside. Reasonably, Tyler's pretty sure nothing all that bad is going to happen. He's telling this, again, to Parser and Swoops, who are about as homophobes as you can get. Still, he can't quite shake the old dread. The NHL isn't exactly LGBT friendly, and there's a reason he doesn't tell his teammates this stuff. Carly is walking proof of why.

But still. "I can't just let guys like Carly say that shit about my family," he finishes weakly.

Parser and Swoops look at him in silence for a moment, then at each other. Parser puts a hand on Tyler's shoulder and looks him in the eye, suddenly more sincere than he's ever been. "Thanks for trusting us with this," Parser says. He doesn't look authoritative, or charming, or anything like the larger-than-life persona he's crafted. He just looks tired. "You don't need to worry about him. I'll take care of it. As your captain. And--" he hesitates. "And as your friend."

For a moment, Tyler just stares at him, the words playing on repeat in his mind: as your friend. Somewhere, fifteen year old Tyler is having a panic attack. But right here, right now, nineteen year old Tyler nods, and looks solemn, and remembers just how hard he's fought to get here at all. How hard they've all fought to get here at all.

"Thanks," he says.

The next day, they're all walking to the bus, suitcases rolling along behind. when Carly walks out of the hotel with a decided lack of bounce in his step. There's an ugly bruise marring the line of his jaw.

Parser's at the head of the line to board the bus, arguing with the bus driver about something. He spots Carly first, and breaks off mid-sentence. He's got the same look on his face as in the bar, vulnerable and raw. Tyler starts to move towards Carly, but Swoops suddenly has a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Hey," he says, voice low. "No."

Carly smirks at him, then starts to pass him in the line. Dipshit. 

Tyler barely moves, just takes a step forward, letting his suitcase swing out to the side, directly in Carly's path. He collides with it hard, stumbling to one side, barely able to regain his balance in time to prevent a fall. 

"Goddamn fuckin' kid," Carly mutters. "Watch where you're going!"

"Whoops!" Tyler barely manages to keep a straight face, but the fact that Swoops's fingers are digging into his shoulder with a considerable amount of force certainly helps. "Sorry."

"Whatever," Carly says, moving past them. As soon as he's gone, Swoops loosens his grip on Tyler's shoulder. 

"You idiot," Swoops says, but there's a note of affection to it.

Tyler glances to the front of the bus. Parser is back to arguing with the driver, but now there's the hint of a smirk on his face. 

"Yeah," Tyler says. "Yeah, I know."


End file.
